


Nazareth

by Sean_Clishe



Category: Original Work
Genre: Drug Use, Drugs, Marijuana, Post-Apocalypse, Recreational Drug Use, Weed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 06:14:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14731481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sean_Clishe/pseuds/Sean_Clishe
Summary: Have you ever wondered how 'Dopesmoker' by Sleep would be like if it were a novel? Then this is the perfect book for you. No? Don't go away yet.'Nazareth' is set in a post-apocalyptical world called Zion, a giant desert wasteland where, much like in the real world, people have to work for money or starve, but this time with no internet, Erik, our protagonist, is tired of living in his boring farm and goes on an adventure in search for the Weedians, legendary creatures that wander the sandseas and smoke weed, only to find that things are not exactly how he expected.





	Nazareth

**Author's Note:**

> 'Dopesmoker' by Sleep, song that inspired the book https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ugp8a7B9izw

Dawn breaks in Zion, the dry cold of the night is slowly replaced by the unsustainable heat that will persist for the rest of the day. Beyond the endless layers of bright yellow dunes that have just started reflecting sunshine, a single thin line of smoke ascends to the sky. 

For the first time since he had left home, Erik could know for sure that he was getting closer to his destination. “Follow the smoke towards the riff filled land”, went the saying, and so he did. It had been some years since he had first heard of the weedians, human-like creatures that wandered through the deserts in trading caravans, their obscure figures could sometimes be seen within the city centers and local markets of small farming villages, but they were known for disappearing almost as fast as they came to be. Although little was known about them, their image seemed to be inevitably associated with exotic spices, new technologies and, most important of all, cannabis, a lot of cannabis. It was an inalterable truth, wherever they went, weed followed, and whenever they left, their footprint was left there forever. Their mysterious appearances tended to lead to a lot of different theories about their origins, some said that it was due to the bombs, that the radiation changed something in their bodies, forcing them to live as outcasts of society (which would explain them covering their bodies with capes and their faces with masks, although another simpler explanation was that it was just because of the heat), others believed that they were just regular people who had grown tired of life in the civilized parts of Zion and had decided to create their own perfect world, in some sort of commune system. Since the merchants never stayed for more than a few days, and no one was ever able to get closer to their caravans, nobody ever got to actually figure out the truth about the weedians, but, whatever they were, Erik was about to meet them. 

He stopped for a moment. The sight was something he had never seen before: A stoner caravan emerging from the sandsea. The encampment was massive, it was hard to count how many robed figures he could see, but there were hundreds of them for sure. It seemed that the moving village had just began to wake up and to start with their activities, some of them were clearly setting up campfires for boiling water and maybe cooking, others were starting to take care of the horse-like beasts, it was clear that in a few minutes that camp would only remain as a memory and the caravan would be ready to continue their journey. The thin line of smoke, which, as Erik now knew, came from the nighttime guard, was soon joined by the breath of hundreds of lungs, inhaling and exhaling marijuana in harmony from all across the camp, joining each other in the sky to form the great gray cloud that he had been following for so many days. A wave of joy and relief went through his mind as the smell of cannabis came into his nose and filled his lungs, letting him finally know that he was in the right place. After such a long trip, his water and food were nearly over, and his weed, the most important, had been smoked out before completing the third day of the journey. Having followed the smoke for so long, only sleeping for a few hours a day, he was beginning to believe it was impossible to reach the legendary weedians, happily, he was wrong. 

Erik had known from the beginning that the way was dangerous and that it would be very hard to reach the weedians, he also knew that, had he taken only a few more days to find the camp, he would end up alone in the desert, with no food or water, only the vague guideline that the smoke in the horizon meant, which, for what he knew, could be anything at all, from a car’s burning engine to a campfire made by any other traveler. Despite all that, he decided to go and, against all odds, he finally got there, safe and sound, but his journey was not over. By that time, Erik knew just as much about the weedians as anyone else, he had no idea of what lay behind their masks, or of how they would react to his arrival. Could it be that they would welcome him as one of their own? Or would they treat him as an intruder?  
“I see you finally made it”, said a metallic voice coming from directly behind him “well, don’t go thinking of yourself as any special.”

Erik’s face went pale. For how long had they been following him? How could he have been so stupid as to not think of that possibility? It was over, he was done for it. All those days, thinking he would come to a great achievement, all of that for nothing. Of all the things they could do to him, death was the less important. Why did he even think of going there in the first place? Nobody ever knew where the Weedians were, that’s because nobody lived to tell the story. For how long were they following him? It was the campfire, of course it was the campfire, they saw it since the third day, from there on they were always on his back, always one step ahead of him. Wait, no, maybe it was the weed, maybe they smelled it, how didn’t he think of that, they’re weedians after all, that’s their thing, they would never miss the smell of cannabis, not even from a hundred kilometers, not even against the wind, they would always find it.  
“They spotted you in the Silver crossing” went on the voice “I was the one designated to follow you, at first I didn’t think you could make it, thought you would lose our tracks, or just give up like most of the adventurers who are curious and brave enough to follow us. Some days went on and your survival skills made me change my mind, and yet here you are, didn’t disappoint me at all, I knew there was green in your blood, let’s hope that you won’t disappoint the others either”

“Others?” Erik tried to put a sentence together, but soon was cut off again.

“The weedians, what did you think would happen once you got here? That we would just say hi and let you go?”

Deep inside, that’s what he wanted, he knew that couldn’t end up well. Still, he gathered the will to turn around and try to say something, but was interrupted again.

“Good, then we shall begin.”

As Erik had expected, his follower looked like a typical weedian. The torso and legs were covered in long, dark-green robes, which left no part of the body exposed, and the head, by a hood much like the robes. Under the hood, something resembling a gas mask could be seen, with a tube sticking out of it. The tube was connected to some sort of device on the back of the suit which, Erik assumed, was used as a cannabis dispenser, allowing the weedians to inhale the smoke without having to use their hands, clever weedians.

Before going further towards him, the figure reached to take its mask off. How could it be? He was sure that the weedians needed the mask to properly breath, or at least that was what the legends told. What could he expect to see behind it then? 

The mask came off with a clicking sound, and then a steaming cloud was released, as if it had been trapped there with all the pressure in the world. And, for his surprise, Erik didn’t see an alien, neither did he see a face deformed by radioactivity, instead, it was a young woman, with a strongly middle eastern appearance. He was, indeed, surprised, as much as he was disappointed, since he was really rooting for it to be an alien.

“I’m Adina”, the girl gave him her hand with a smile.

“Uhm… Erik”, he answered, still confused by the mask event.

“They really liked you”, the girl said as she passed him the joint

“You think so?”

“Yeah, totally, you’ll make a great addition to the commune. If you’re lucky, someday you might even make it to the growhouse”

Erik took another puff.

“You’re putting a lot of hope on me”, he said in an ironic tone, “not that I don’t want you to be right.”

The day died with them both sitting around a campfire, already many miles away from where their first encounter had taken place. Although they had given him food and water, Erik didn’t really have any time to be shown around, less than half an hour after the break of dawn, the caravan had already sailed off into the deep seas of sand. But, good news were, they were going to stay longer in that spot, which would give him time to look around the camp.

“So, what’s the deal with the mask?” The question had been bothering Erik since that day in the morning, “If you don’t need it to breath, why wear it at all?”

“It helps to keep the mysterious aura around us.” Adina explained “Being raided by bandits isn’t something we want, so we always keep the masks on when talking to normal folk, this way everyone thinks twice before messing around with us, they think we’re some kind of mutants, just like you did.”

“And what happens if someone leaves the Weedians?”

“They don’t. Look around, why would anyone want to leave this place? And even if they did, they’d have no reason to expose us, it would be too risky for them”

Erik turned to look at the others, she was right, he saw people playing music, dancing, singing, smoking, there didn’t seem to be a single bored Weedian. The hard work of the caravans payed off. 

“Now, you should go to sleep, tomorrow’s gonna be a long day”


End file.
